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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26033224">Under The Bridge</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenall/pseuds/sevenall'>sevenall</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Alliance-Union - C. J. Cherryh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:48:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,296</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26033224</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenall/pseuds/sevenall</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>An explanation on Sol trademarking had followed, including the differences between a cake and a biscuit, until the Captain had finished signing the release documents and sent Cargo on their way.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Di Janz/Signy Mallory, Jurgen Graff/Signy Mallory</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Fandom Giftbox 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Under The Bridge</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/opalmatrix/gifts">opalmatrix</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Tried to make it better.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>1. NOW THAT IS A LIE</p><p>Di Janz appreciates his food and the canteen serves it the way he likes it, hot and plentiful. Cook knows how to feed hungry marines, nervy bridge crew and picky seniors on rejuv, and that’s all anyone can ask. A dollop of ketchup or mayo adds the acidity he likes to everything in Cook’s repertoire and there is always a chocolate dessert.</p><p>Stationside, there is so much to choose from, fresh produce and local specialties. Some may not be very suited to a spacer’s sensibilities, but Di tries them anyway. If it turns out to be tasty and can be brought onboard in a can or a jar, he will present it to the Captain and Helm One.</p><p>The Captain tells him to remove it and himself, but there is a smile in her voice when she does. Helm One usually takes the time to read the label and nutrition claim before handing it back. In hindsight, the tinned octopus had not been a great start to the tradition.</p><p>Because it is a tradition now, a standing joke between the three of them, and therefore something precious and private. Di Janz doesn’t know when he noticed how indifferent they were to food as anything other than something to keep them on their feet. They are too conscious of their duty to the ship and their crew to skip meals, but certainly they see it as a chore to keep mind and body together.</p><p>Di Janz finds this difficult to understand. He is at home in his body, he knows where it starts and ends, he enjoys its strength and abilities. Age may have rendered him stouter than in his youth, but he is easily able to take down marines decades younger during sparring sessions and his obstacle course scores are always in the top ten. And unlike some people, he doesn’t come out of jump with brittle nails and hair falling out.</p><p>So Di Janz tries, in his way, to find them something they might not only eat, but also enjoy. One day, he is sure, he will find it.</p><p>2. THE PLACE I LOVE</p><p>Norway ran out of hot sauce five days out from Eldorado. Cook was majorly upset and Mallory had to listen to how no one in Cargo had checked the bill of materials and how they now had twice the amount of mustard instead. Mallory, who was uninterested in food in general and actively averse to most dirtside delicacies, thanked Cook for raising the issue and dismissed him as gently and quickly as she could.</p><p>Hot sauce was a Sol invention that covered many flaws in the food aboard; the sheer amount of capsaicin had an overwhelming effect on the taste buds. Exceedingly useful whenever the occasion called for sampling of the local cuisine.</p><p>Mallory's breakfast tray usually included two packets. Without it, she realized that she could taste her eggs and toast and that she did not like it. She ate anyway. Food was fuel, she had eaten much worse and to imply any personal dissatisfaction with the situation would be unbecoming. Cook was upset as it was and while someone in Cargo was due a reprimand, it should be for not paying attention to transfer documents, not for the lack of hot sauce at the Captain's table.</p><p>"Ketchup," Di offered brightly. "And mustard."</p><p>Mallory gave him a Look, but since they were in the officer's mess with other people, she only said:</p><p>"Thank you, Sergeant. I hadn't noticed."</p><p>Ketchup had been the flavor of her childhood. A poor substitute for hot sauce, same as station life had been for her mother. Mallory could still remember her mother's tired voice, asking questions she didn't have the energy to hear the answers to. Cheapest food there was, bought in bulk, and still she was working two shifts every day. Waiting and waiting for the ship to come back.</p><p>Spacers took breaks all the time. This one hadn't turned out particularly well for her mother. Most details had started to blur and fade, but the taste of ketchup, real or imagined, was suddenly in her mouth.</p><p>She looked down at the plate she had just cleared. At Di's, on her left, at Graff's on her right. They should both eat better, she thought, less salt and fat for Di and Graff should just eat more. Maybe even something that hadn't been grown in a vat.</p><p>"Mr. Graff," she said. "Please pass the word for the hydroponics and food lab techs."</p><p>3. TAKE ME ALL THE WAY</p><p>It had been the most unlikely of coincidences. Only Graff had seen it the slight change in the Captain’s posture, the way she became Signy for just one moment, as she said:</p><p>“Jaffa cakes? On Viking?”</p><p>Cargo Number Two had leaned in to inspect the bill of materials more closely, then shaken her head.</p><p>“No, Captain, you’re right, couldn’t possibly be."</p><p>A explanation on Sol trademarking had followed, including the differences between a cake and a biscuit, until the Captain had finished signing the release documents and sent Cargo on their way.</p><p>Once they were alone, Signy turned to Graff, looking fond.</p><p>“Was a time when one of those boxes would’ve be lost in transit,” she murmured.</p><p>“What were they like?” Grass asked, feigning disinterest. Signy had no specific interest in food and he had never known her to be sentimental. She spoke seldom about her past or family ship, and when she did it was in a casual, even dismissive manner.</p><p>“Orange chocolate cookies. Kept forever, I’d expect they were full of preservatives. Now, Mr. Graff, about these shift changes…”<br/>
--<br/>
Cook was busy and knew nothing about Jaffa cakes. Cargo told Graff that citrus in any form, freeze-dried or extract, was a Luxury Good, meaning that while they might be lost in transit, there would be financial and reputational impact. Kady, one of the crew members who had actually eaten a Jaffa cake sometime in her rab past, informed him that they were nothing special and anyway unlikely to be marketed outside Sol system. Di, with his wealth of knowledge about anything ingestible, including recreational drugs and poisons, found a potential seller in a few minutes.</p><p>It was a cheap, sad-looking biscuit and Signy had been right about the preservatives. The price was outrageous, even without the shipping costs and the availability was limited. Graff felt his heart sink.</p><p>“So, Jaffa cakes?” Di said. “Mind telling me about this sudden interest in food?3</p><p>It wasn’t sudden. Graff liked tasting things, especially things with unexpected textures. Trying Earth desserts had been delightful. Of course, he had been sick most of the night after, discovering a red berry allergy in the worst way.</p><p>“Not for me,” he said. “For the Captain.”</p><p>“The Captain wanted these?” Di sounded skeptical and Graff couldn’t blame him.</p><p>“I don’t know,” he answered. “Sounded like a memory.”</p><p>“Ah.” Di typed some more on his pad. “In that case, better to stick with the original. I was thinking a truffle variant or dark chocolate orangettes, it’s a bit classier, but…”</p><p>“Yeah,” Graff interrupted before they got into anything bordering on the Captain’s childhood.</p><p>“Okay then. Just leave it to me. Unless,” and Di’s eyes were understanding, “you want it between her and you?”</p><p>Graff didn’t need to think about that one.</p><p>“Never in life, Di,” he said, reaching out a hand; they were off-duty after all. “There is nothing I would like better than to give her something from us both.”<br/>
--<br/>
Several months later, when Norway pulled out from Pell after maintenance and repair, there was a carton of Jaffa cakes in Mallory’s office. There was no note, but the invoice was signed Di Janz and Graff.</p>
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